Disclaimer: No, they's not mine. I just manipulate them into H/W!Sex if I like ittt.

A/N: This story goes out to my boy Jimmy. For being awesomely awesome. [: And props as this is his idea. :D

Househousehouse

Ahh, clinic duty. So many mind numbing patients, so little time. Of course, if these mind numbingly "common cold" type patients would go home and take some aspirin, that would leave him more time to have sex with Wilson in elevators…on call rooms…tightly locked and dark offices…it would just be better for all if House wasn't stuck in the clinic.

But, alas, he was. For two hours, he'd been here, writing out prescriptions for nasal decongestant, but he was closing in on the last five minutes of his shift, which meant he could skip out and find Wilson and play hide and go seek with his sausage.

He grabbed his last chart and limped quickly into Exam Room Two. He saw there was a woman with a baby boy. The idea of how ugly and disgusting children were flitted through House's mind as it always did when he saw a baby, but he just said, "I'm Dr. House. What's wrong with your kid?"

"Besides having your genes, nothing. Although I think that, in itself, is nothing."

The woman, from House's B.G. (before gay) viewpoint, was beautiful. She had long, dark hair, a skinny waist, and great boobs. She basically had everything he looked for in a relationship, except that she didn't think he was amazing. That was a huge personality flaw, and therefore, the relationship was over before it had begun. Besides the fact that he was gay. That was another reason it would never take off the ground. Also, her nostrils were red, meaning she was a crackhead. And he just wasn't into crackheads. Too flaky. Sort of like heroin addicts.

"Not my genes." He said to the woman. He heard stupid shit from patients all the time, and some hot woman potentially accusing him of having a child (especially when he'd never seen her before) wasn't going to rattle him. "Which one of you is sick?" He'd looked in the chart by now, and there was nothing in there, not surprisingly.

"Neither. I've just come to give you this." She stood up, her long legs just adding to her package, House noticed, and thrust the baby, who started crying and stinking, at him. "I don't want him anymore. Do you know how hard it is to come down off of a high when you've got this screaming in your ear? Not easy, I'll tell you. Just take him."

House narrowed his eyebrows. "Why should I take care of your responsibilities? I didn't get knocked up."

She rolled her eyes. "You obviously have a horrible memory, or too many hookers bouncing around your apartment all the time to remember any of them. My name is Anna, and I was one of your "visitors" a year and a half ago. Nine months after I had sex with you, I popped this little asshole out, and there you go. But he's yours, and I want nothing to do with him anymore. Don't worry, I may be a crackhead, but he's not a crack baby. I started right around the time he was born." She shrugged her shoulders.

House's jaw had dropped, but he managed to maintain his cool. He took a grasp at one last straw. "You're a hooker. You probably slept with dozens of people a week, and I was only one of them." He did remember her now. She'd been…one of the best, to tell the truth, the best before Wilson. So at least he knew he had had sex with her.

"You were the last one I had sex with before I got pregnant, and a couple days before I'd stopped taking the pill. Look, I don't care if you don't believe me. He's yours. Do a paternity test. In fact, I don't even care if you keep him, just as long as you don't kill him. That's mean, even by my standards." She laid the boy gently in House's arms, and said, "His name is Zachary Joseph, and he has no last name." She handed him a birth certificate and left a speechless House behind in the exam room.

He stared down at the baby, and for the first time, he noticed that he had House's eyes. Zachary had stopped crying, and was just whimpering a little bit, but he yawned. House laid him in the car seat she'd left behind, surprised Mommy Dearest hadn't just dragged the thing around in a cardboard box.

He held the car seat at arms length and disappeared into the elevator, hoping no one had seen him, and then went into Wilson's office, setting the seat on a chair. "Apparently that's mine." He jerked a thumb at the baby and shrugged. "Personally, I think the crack whore was full of crap, but who knows. Wanna have sex? He won't tell anybody."

Househousehouse

A/N: I think Jimmy will write the next chapter [: